


Praise Be Unto You

by GloriousGoblinQueen



Series: Succor in Your Time of Need [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Loyalty Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 22:58:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14318937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriousGoblinQueen/pseuds/GloriousGoblinQueen
Summary: The last remaining follower of an ancient agricultural god summons him for an evening of sex as repayment for saving his life.





	Praise Be Unto You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1010nabulation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1010nabulation/gifts).



Yeb-Hamari sat in the middle of an abandoned field, legs folded, and held one hand out over a patch of dead grass. He closed his eyes and focused, drawing on the tragically small well of power still within him. When he opened his eyes, he smiled at the sparse growth of lavender that had sprung up. It comforted him to know that he could still work small miracles.

He looked around at the field he was in; the only sign humans had ever been near it was old, rundown farming equipment scattered here and there. This was but one of many lands Yeb-Hamari had blessed long ago, earning the continued devotion of his worshippers. Many of his followers were farmers of some kind, and looked to him to keep their lands fertile, their animals healthy, and their harvests bountiful. Their offerings were just as bountiful, and at the start of each month he knew he could look forward to a table full of the fruits of his followers’ labor: baskets of produce, pouches of seeds, and other things all offered to him in thanks. Even better was the love and devotion he felt flowing from his worshippers and powering his magic.

That was all many years ago. As time marched on, so did the beliefs and needs of the people who once prayed to him so fervently. Generations moved from rural areas into big cities, fell in love with their advanced technology, and gradually forgot the old ways of their forebears. Even those who stayed in the country modernized eventually, and put their faith in worldly things. As his worshippers outgrew him, his powers grew weaker, and now all he could manage on a good day were simple tricks like making flowers grow in strange places. Even his very existence felt less substantial, and he found himself questioning sometimes if he was still real.

Out of nowhere, he felt a pull towards something, or rather, someone. He could tell immediately it was his last remaining follower, the sole reason he hadn’t completely lost his powers and faded into oblivion yet. The man’s prayers were a constant comforting force, a soothing balm in the times when loneliness threatened to get the better of him. In his weakened state, he couldn’t get a clear impression of his follower’s appearance, but he could feel the intent of the man’s summoning as plain as day.

His presence was being requested for a ritual; specifically, a ritual that involved sex. Yeb-Hamari wasn’t some virgin, but it had been ages since he’d been in an orgy or had any kind of sexual contact with a mortal (he wasn’t particularly interested in his fellow deities that way), so this summoning had his tanned face lighting up with a fierce blush. Nevertheless, he would appear before this loyal human, not wanting to take his devotion for granted. Besides, this follower felt very familiar to him.

* * *

Simón lit the small bundle of wheat on fire and sat back to pray. His offerings for the altar weren’t much, just some wheat, a couple of pears and an old hand shovel he used to use in his mother’s garden, but it was the best he could do. He doubted the god he was trying to summon would mind much, since that’s how his offerings had been since he’d turned 18. He more than made up for it with his nightly prayers and his overall devotion.

He’d only been nine years old when Yeb-Hamari saved his life. Simón had been playing by the river, despite his mother’s warnings, and of course fell in. He fought against the river’s strong current, and would have certainly drowned were it not for the god’s interference. Simón remembered going underwater one moment and being on the shore the next, staring into big, luminescent green eyes.

Since that day, Simón had devoted his worship solely to his savior. Even after the rest of his family’s faith in the gods had faded, he remained ever faithful to Yeb-Hamari. He did it both out of a deep love for his god and out of a need to repay him as best as he could for saving his life. Today, he would finally get the opportunity to show his appreciation in a way he thought his god deserved.

* * *

In the blink of an eye, Yeb-Hamari stood in what he assumed was someone’s family room. There was a dark-skinned man kneeling on the floor in front of him, but despite his proximity the god still couldn’t tell exactly who he was dealing with. When the man raised his head, it all came rushing back to him.

This was Simón, that boy with the big smile and the cute laugh who he’d saved years ago from a watery grave. Only, he wasn’t a boy anymore. He’d grown into a terribly handsome young man, with dreadlocks down past his shoulders and a gaze Yeb-Hamari thought he could get lost in.

“It’s you,” Simón whispered. “It’s really you!”

Simón looked at him as though he were a king, and Yeb-Hamari nearly shrank away before remembering he _should_ be as a king to this mortal. Whether he had a million followers or just the one, he was still a god. He did, however, insist that Simón drop the “Yeb” when addressing him, not being in the mood for such formality.

He allowed Simón to shyly embrace him, like he thought Hamari would disappear before his eyes. He let himself be lead off towards the back of the house, marvelling at how eager Simón was for this ritual.

* * *

Standing in the bathroom, Hamari went to undo his robes but Simón stopped him.

“No,” Simón exclaimed. “Please, let me do that.”

Hamari dropped his hands to his sides and let his devoted follower work. Simón ran his hands over the god’s shoulders, his chest, practically everywhere. Hamari assumed it was because Simón was familiarizing himself with how his clothes fastened, until the man cupped his cheek with one hand and began slowly undoing the ties on his robes with the other, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time. They both let his robes fall to the floor, then Simón undressed himself without ceremony. He’d already ran the water for the bath, and it was still nice and warm, so all he had to do was add scented oil to the water. He helped Hamari into the bathtub, then got in behind him.

* * *

Simón grabbed a washcloth and lathered it up, then started gently washing the young man in front of him. He started with the column of Hamari’s neck, before scrubbing down his shoulders and arms. Though he was still slightly tense at the unexpected amount of care, Hamari let himself enjoy Simón’s attention. The light scent of lavender was ever present, which the god appreciated. Practically all of his followers associated him with sandalwood, and though he didn’t mind that particular scent, it wasn’t his favorite. He wondered how Simón figured that out.

Hamari must have been thinking out loud, because Simón leaned forward against him and answered. “The day you saved me from the river, you had a sprig of lavender tucked in your hair. I got distracted by it because it made you look so pretty.” Hamari shouldn’t have been surprised, but he blushed anyway. He’d been called a great many things by his past followers, but “pretty” wasn’t one of them. It warmed him, how honest Simón was.

A different kind of warmth started to bloom in him when Simón changed focus and started washing his chest. In this form, Hamari’s chest happened to be on the sensitive side, making him hyper-aware of Simón’s innocent stroking down his sternum. Then Simón moved outward, not-so innocently brushing over his nipples. He circles each one in turn, making them stiffen under his touch. Simón, still leaning against him, brushed a soft kiss against the back of Hamari’s neck. He grabbed Hamari in a loose one-armed hold and tended to his front, washing him from sternum all the way down to between his thighs.

Hamari's breath caught in his throat. Simón kept up the pretense of reverently bathing him, but the undercurrent of lust was palpable. With each pass of the washcloth over Hamari's chest and belly, Simón pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. He whispered praise after praise, thanking him for saving his life, and for all the small blessings he'd given Simón's family over the years, meagre as they might seem to others. Some of those benedictions Hamari hadn't heard in centuries, at least. That Simón went through the trouble of learning them, let alone thought him worthy of them, stirred something deep in his heart.

When Simón shifted even closer to him, he became suddenly aware of the hard press of Simón's cock against his lower back, right above his ass. At the same time, Simón dropped the hand that had been bathing him into his lap. He palmed the god's cock, now more than a little stiff, and gave it a slow, smooth stroke. Hamari gasped, surprised as much by the boldness of the move as the intensity of the sensation. His hips jerked up, and he grabbed hold of Simón's knees in a hurry.

Simón stroked him a few more times before letting go, leaving Hamari tense and desperate for more. He bit his lip to stay quiet as Simón washed his thighs, straying so close to where he needed to be touched without actually getting there. When Simón started washing the rest of his upper legs, Hamari realized he probably wasn't getting anything else for now. Simón switched to washing his back, and Hamari took the opportunity to calm himself down and enjoy the feeling of the washcloth scrubbing against his skin. When he was done, Simón handed Hamari the washcloth so he could get at whatever Simón couldn’t reach before tending to himself.

They eventually rinsed off, and Simón dried him off with great care. When they were no longer dripping wet, Simón lead him to his bedroom.

* * *

The sheets were a little rougher than what he was used to, but that wasn’t Hamari’s main concern. Simón was gazing so intently at him, and Hamari found he had to look away. Simón just kissed the corner of his jaw, then kissed his way down Hamari's neck and chest. Hands felt like they were everywhere on him, roaming up around his shoulders and up and down his sides, around his hips. Being on the receiving end of so much attention rattled him to the core. Every touch left Hamari's skin hot and sparking in its wake, and as much as part of him wanted to hide away, not seeing exactly what Simón was doing was unbearable.

He looked down just in time to catch Simón lay a kiss on his lower belly, ever so close to the head of his cock. He was mesmerized by the shimmering and dancing of the candlelight against Simón's dark skin. The sight of his lips moving made him hone in on what Simón was saying. Though he heard him speak it earlier, Hamari was still taken aback by Simón's whispers in the Old Tongue. It's not easy to speak, yet here he was praising Hamari head to toe in it, one hand laid reverently over Hamari's heart.

Once his litany was over, Simón grabbed Hamari by the hips and licked a stripe up the underside of his cock before swallowing it halfway down. Hamari arched back against the bed, eyes shut, hands tightly gripping the sheets, mouth open in a silent scream. Simón's mouth felt impossibly hot around him, Hamari swore he was going to leap right out of the mortal form he'd taken on. Several long moments passed before he realized Simón wasn't moving any further. The way Simón was putting pressure on his hips told Hamari he was moving around a bit more than he should. Embarrassed, he concentrated on making his muscles relax. He eventually calmed down again, and Simón continued.

Hamari could feel every inch of himself sliding into Simón's throat. Though he made sure to keep his hips still, the rest of him was free to move. His head thrashed from side to side as he writhed against the sheets, and he struggled not to close his thighs around Simón's head.

Simón sucked him down like a starving man. The pressure at the back of Simón's throat squeezed the head of his cock just right, and the mix of Simón's saliva and Hamari's own fluids made the slide ridiculously slick. Every so often, Simón pulled off to lick around the swollen head, its underside, and against the flared corona. It wasn't long before Hamari was whining softly, the side of his face pressed into the pillow and his heart racing in his chest. He wasn't sure if fellating him was all Simón had in mind, but he was right on the edge of climaxing either way.

The first brush of fingers against his entrance took him by surprise. He tensed up, but Simón's hand stroking his thigh put him at ease. The fingers were slick, but Hamari had no recollection of Simón grabbing any oil. He spared a moment to be concerned over how dull his perception seemed to be in this mortal body before Simón's mouth was working on him again. The brief respite pulled him back from the edge, and he could better enjoy Simón's mouth and the prep work his fingers were doing.

Hamari groaned and spread his legs out of instinct when Simón's fingers finally breached him. Despite taking human form, his divine nature kept him from experiencing any true pain. He could feel the light burning of being stretched, but that was just another kind of pleasure as far as he was concerned. Simón steadily eased his fingers in and out, gradually working him open. Hamari didn't need the preparation like a mortal would, and he was sure Simón knew this, so he found the act touching. It's been longer than he cared to admit since he was treated with such care and reverence.

Simón kept his eyes locked with Hamari's the whole time he fingered him, and the god was close to feeling overwhelmed again. Just when he was about to turn his head away in an attempt to hide, Simón's fingers pressed against a particular spot inside him. He twisted like he was trying to get away, sounding like he'd been stabbed. Each press against that spot sent lightning shooting up his spine, and he didn't even realize he'd shut his eyes until Simón called out to him.

He looked up, and Simón was leaning over him, braced by one hand near his shoulder on the bed. Simón was a gorgeous sight to behold, his sculpted body poised over Hamari just so, and wearing a soft, almost playful gaze. The fingers in him pulled out slowly, and Hamari watched curiously as Simón slotted their hips together.

Hamari knew Simón couldn't cause him any serious pain, but that first slide of the man's cock into him still had him gripping the sheets in anticipation of it. Never had he been speared by something so thick. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he raised his hips, wanting to pull Simón in as deep as possible.

The first slide in was with the same even pace and easy patience Simón had had all evening. He bottomed out and rested there for a few moments, letting Hamari get used to the feel of him. Hamari savored the heat radiating inside him from where they were connected, how his passage throbbed slowly around Simón's cock. On a whim, he clenched down just to see what would happen. Simón bit his lip and screwed his eyes shut, and his hips thrust forward of their own accord. Hamari jumped at the sudden blunt strike against his prostate, and he had half a mind to mess with Simón again. Before he could, Simón was backing out until just the head was still inside. He thrust in and out a few times, shallowly, and while the drag of the head felt good against Hamari's entrance, it wasn't quite enough.

Simón grabbed Hamari's hips and slid home again, balls deep, striking that spot inside him with precision. As quiet as he'd been, Hamari couldn't help but cry out, feeling so many things at once. Simón started fucking him earnestly then, both hands on the god's hips pulling them against his body with each thrust. All the while Hamari made enough noise for the both of them, moaning loud and whimpering as though possessed. His hands were tangled in the sheets, but what he really wanted was to grab onto Simón. Had he more confidence, he would have reached out for him.

Instead, Simón came to him, leaning down to press their bodies together. He laid his head on Hamari's shoulder and nuzzled against him softly before fucking him even more vigorously than before. Hamari was stunned by the change in angle for a moment, but he quickly recovered. He wrapped his legs around Simón's waist and threw a hand in Simón's hair, grasping at the long, soft dreadlocks he'd longed to run his fingers through. Hamari held him intimately close as the bed rocked hard beneath them.

The assault on his prostate and the constant sweat-slick rubbing against his cock was too much for him. With a howl, Hamari spent himself messily all over his stomach, some of it reaching as far as his chest. Simón doubled down on him, and Hamari held on, craving Simón's come and clenching his muscles every so often to help him along. When Simón finally came, Hamari practically got flooded. Simón kept still to catch his breath, and Hamari took the chance to revel in the evidence of Simón's virility before using his powers to clear everything away. Simón eased himself out and settled on his side, maintaining contact with Hamari even as he drifted off.

Under normal circumstances, this would have been the point where Hamari left his dear follower a gift for his devotion and returned to his domain. The thing was, these circumstances were anything but normal; there were few who still knew his name, and of them, Simón was the only one who bothered praying regularly to him. There was no backlog of unanswered prayers waiting for him, just a gorgeous human who seems to value him beyond his magic and godhood.

He looked down at Simón, taking in the relaxed set of his features, and was overcome with affection. Hamari wanted nothing more than to cast in his lot with this man, not just to save himself from nonexistence, but to also know the love of someone who would never forsake him, no matter how many years passed. He reached over to stroke Simón's hair, desperately wanting to talk to him, but not wanting to wake him. Fortunately, Simón had only been lightly dozing, and his eyes blinked open almost as soon as Hamari laid a hand on him.

Simón grabbed Hamari's hand that was in his hair and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of it. He looked up at him with that same adoring gaze of his, and Hamari couldn't help himself. He tightened his grip on Simón's hand and blurted out, "Would you have me stay with you? As a human, I mean."

Simón looked up at him in confusion. "You'd want to stay with me just like that? I have so little to offer."

Hamari smiled to himself. "You have more than enough to offer me. Far more than my continued life as a god, at least." He braced himself for Simón to ask what he meant, but the man thankfully didn't press the issue. Instead, he sighed and relaxed back against his pillow, intent on going back to sleep.

"I'd be honored, then," he said quietly.

* * *

Hamari picked his robes up off the bathroom floor and rifled through them. When his hand met with a warm, flat shape, he knew he'd found what he was looking for. He pulled out the solid gold coin embossed with his divine name and looked at it. This was a physical manifestation of his divinity, tying him to his godhood. Without this coin, he was just another mortal, subject to the same laws and forces they all were. As such, he was the only one who could destroy his coin.

He thought about Simón's peaceful, sleeping face, and how he'd get the chance to see it night after night as he broke the coin clean in two against the edge of the bathtub.

**Author's Note:**

> I liked this world so much, I decided to keep playing in it, so there's a prequel coming.


End file.
